


in the absence of words

by cartoonmoomba



Series: post-game where everyone is alive and happy in the new world [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIII Series, Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 15:51:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1823917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cartoonmoomba/pseuds/cartoonmoomba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are sometimes words that don't need to be said. Hope, Claire, and "okay". [post-LR, Hope/Lightning, drabble-ish.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the absence of words

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Final Fantasy XIII franchise does not belong to me.
> 
> AN: The whole “okay” thing comes from John Green’s The Fault In Our Stars, which I don’t like as a book all that much but the “okay” thing I found cute one night and this popped into my head. This is somewhat drabbley and in my opinion has some reading between the lines buuuuut I think I still get (some sort of) my point across. Leave a review? 

_in the absence of words_

o

* * *

 

The nightmares come every time she sleeps and they do not stop. She always wakes to Hope shaking her, green eyes bright with concern as he grips the clammy skin of her shoulders.

“I’m fine,” she rasps out the first time before he can even speak. “It’s okay Hope, I’m okay.”

His eyes trace the tired lines of her face and he nods, once, the motion full of understanding.

“Okay,” he says, and returns to his room. She turns to her side and pretends not to know that he will lie awake for the reminder of the night, aching as she screams herself hoarse.

* * *

 

.

.

* * *

 

“Hope!” She calls his name as he thrashes in her grip, anger etched onto his expression as he fights whatever demons come to haunt him in his sleep. “Hope, wake up!”

His body stills at her words and his eyes snap open – they gaze around the room wildly before coming to settle on her face. It takes another moment for her to feel the muscles in his shoulder relax by a margin, and she loosens her grip on him.

He catches her hand as she moves to pull away. “Lightning,” he chokes on the name, the green of his gaze burning a hole to the very depths of her being. “He was there again, Bhunivelze—“

He cuts himself off and the silence drops. She waits for him to continue, but instead he sighs and lets her hand fall to her side. “I’m okay,” he says to her, the smile he is attempting tugging the corners of his mouth in the wrong direction.

“…Okay,” she replies, and turns to leave the room. She understands.

She lies awake in her own bed, her hands feeling strangely cold.

* * *

 

.

.

* * *

 

“Don’t forget to get the milk,” he reminds her as she grabs her coat and makes for the front door. “I put a list in one of your pockets for everything I need for the dinner tonight, and especially with how much Snow tends to eat—“

She cuts him off with a snort. “Okay,” she replies back, an amused smile on her lips as she eyes him in the reflection of the mirror they have hanging by the door. He huffs, somewhat put out by her casual dismissal.

“I’m not kidding,” he continues, leaning against a wall and watching her lace up her boots. “Last time we didn’t think this through and Snow completely cleaned us out and I had to go to the grocery store the next day _again_ , and—“ She interrupts him by walking up and gently flicking his forehead, a motion made all the more silly by his height towering above her.

He stares at her finger, slightly cross-eyed. “I said okay, didn’t I?” He glances down at her face, and lets out a good-natured sigh.

“…Okay,” he agrees, starting to smile, and she moves to ruffle his hair.

“Okay.”

* * *

 

.

.

* * *

 

His parents die in a train crash five months after they are reborn. He stands in front of their gravestones, staring down as if he can see into the depths of the earth where their caskets are buried.

“I guess some things are just not meant to be,” he says, and she reaches to grip his hand in hers. He stands still for a moment, and then laces their fingers. She can feel him trembling.

“I’m sorry, Hope,” she replies quietly, and when he says nothing, embraces him. They stay like that, soundless, before he responds.

“It’s okay,” the whisper comes against the skin of her neck, and she can feel him beginning to cry against her hair. “It’s okay, really.”

Her arms around him tighten. _No, it’s not_ , she thinks with a vicious ferocity, opening her mouth to voice this before pausing. “…Okay,” is what she says after a few seconds instead, and begins to thread her fingers through his hair in comforting motions. “Okay.”

* * *

.

.

* * *

 

“Do you, Snow Villiers, take Serah Farron to be your lawfully wedded wife…”

From out of the corners of his eyes, he manages to catch a glimpse of the expression on her face as she watches her little sister finally marry. It is caught somewhere between joy, and misery – a miniscule change in the way her eyes narrow and the way her lips purse. Anyone would be hard pressed to notice it, but he is not anyone.

He nudges her shoulder with his, a motion so slight as to not distract anyone watching the ceremony – they are both the Man and Maid of Honor, standing close together on one side of the couple with Vanille and Noel grinning on the other. Her gaze flickers up to meet his, the blue of her eyes telling a story he reads ever so easily.

“Okay?” He murmurs under his breath, a one word question that she needs no elaborations for.

The tense curve of her lips unwinds, and her shoulder bumps back against his.

“Okay.”

* * *

.

.

* * *

 

“My boss offered me a promotion,” she tells him one night after they finish dinner. Hope straightens from where he is putting cutlery into the dishwasher, raising one eyebrow as a prompt for her to continue. She does so, but only after a lengthy pause.

“It’s in Rome,” she says at last, watching him for a reaction. He remains quiet for a few moments, a furrow appearing between his brows that signifies a thought process.

“Well, congratulations are certainly in order,” he replies, turning around to lean on the counter. He crosses his arms over his chest and sends her a large smile. “I know that you’ve wanted one for a while now. Did you accept?”

Claire shifts on her feet, a motion she knows does not go unnoticed by him. Nothing ever does. “I… told him I’d think on it. Moving to a whole other country is a big deal, and it would take a lot of effort to start up an entirely new life there.”

Hope hums in agreement, his eyes moving to somewhere beyond her as he thinks. “Sounds like you’re looking for reasons to avoid taking it,” he observes, the words making her withhold a flinch. “I agree that it would take a lot of time and work, but I’m sure that between the two of us, it’ll be easier than you think. Granted, the Academy isn’t as popular in Rome as it is here, but I’m sure I can secure a transfer and…” he trails off, having glanced back at her and noticed the wide-eyed stare on her face. “Claire? What’s wrong?”

It takes her a few seconds to force the words out past the gathering lump in her throat, and the sudden frantic beating of her heart. “You… want to come with me?”

“Well, yes, I thought—“Hope catches onto her train of thought, and his hands drop awkwardly from his chest as his face flushes. “I—sorry, I thought—I mean, I really don’t even have a reason to assume that’s what you were— God, I’m sorry Claire—“ His eyes dart around to everything but her, the shame burning his face red.

She interrupts him before he can ramble on further. “Okay,” the word slips out of her throat, the weight that had been crushing her lungs together evaporating. Her heart feels ready to burst out of her chest.

“I—what?” Hope’s shocked stare brings a strange, giddy smile to her face. She feels like laughing.

“I said, _okay_ ,” she repeats slowly for his sake, watching as the effect of her words takes hold of him. “I want you to come to Rome with me… if that’s okay with you.”

He just looks at her for a long, quiet moment, a grin beginning to burst from his lips. “Yeah, I would… like that. A lot.”

The smile on her face stretches and softens at the same time, a contradiction she had once thought herself incapable of. “Okay.”

From across the kitchen, he echoes the word back to her, still grinning:

“Okay.” 


End file.
